


With Child-Like Wonder

by SingingInTheRaiin



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Mage Lavellan - Freeform, Trauma, absolutely - Freeform, did I do that anyways?, discovering your magic in your time of need, ehhh idk how to tag longer fics lol, i think this technically counts as a kid fic?, is it a stretch to make surana the kid's mom?, notice how the 'relationship' tags involving Lavellan are all FRIENDSHIP tags, the warden died in origins, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-03 18:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21183650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingInTheRaiin/pseuds/SingingInTheRaiin
Summary: Lavellan is sent by the keeper to spy on the proceedings at the Conclave. What he doesn't expect is for his precocious son to follow him, intent on proving himself to be a grown-up, even though he's only twelve years old. But if Lavellan had known what the consequences would be, he would have sent his son back home the second he'd gotten the chance.





	1. The Temple of Sacred Ashes

Sorahel stayed low to the ground so that his shadow wouldn’t be seen through the thin canvas of the keeper’s tent. He wanted to know what Zevaras had been summoned back for in the middle of a hunt. Sorahel had felt so grown-up when Keeper Deshanna had sent him into the woods to fetch Zevaras, who was the best hunter in their clan, but once they’d returned to the camp, she’d told Sorahel to go back to the other children. 

Of course Sorahel found that to be completely unfair. He was already twelve years old, which meant that he was basically an adult. It was bad enough that the keeper wouldn’t let him join in on hunts yet, but now she wouldn’t even let him be around when she was just talking to someone? 

Which is why he’d snuck back to the keeper’s tent after pretending to walk away, and he was doing his best to listen in and figure out what was going on. The keeper must have used some kind of magic to make it difficult to overhear the conversation, but Sorahel was determined. If he wanted to grow up to be just as strong and cool as his father, then he needed to know what was going on. Someday it would be Sorahel’s job to protect and provide for the clan, just like it was Zevaras’ job right now. 

But all he could hear through the tent were faint murmurs, much to Sorahel’s disappointment and frustration. He flopped down the rest of the way, so he had to tilt his face to the side in order to breath in more than just dirt and grass. 

Eventually, the tent opened and Zevaras stepped outside. The keeper’s voice followed him out. “I expect you to bring back a thorough report, Zevaras. Clan Lavellan is counting on you.”

“Of course, Deshanna. I will head out tonight, as soon as I’ve tucked Sorahel in. You will watch over him while I’m gone, won’t you? Sometimes I worry about that boy, especially when he thinks he’s being sneaky, but not succeeding at it.” Sorahel only had a moment to think about what that could mean before he was suddenly being scooped up by strong arms, and he let out a small shout of alarm (and it was definitely a manly shout, and not a childish shriek), then he relaxed when he realized it was just his father. “You little rascal. Did I never teach you that it’s rude to eavesdrop.”

Sorahel tried not to look too guilty, though he knew that his father had always been the best at reading him. “I wasn’t eavesdropping… couldn’t hear anything through the tent.” 

Zevaras laughed, and Sorahel was relieved that his father seemed so amused, though also somewhat annoyed. If he was older and he tried to listen in on a private conversation with the keeper, surely he would get in more trouble for it? “Come on, da’len. I need to explain things to you.” He glanced over at the keeper. “I will be sure to tell you when I head out.” Then he carried Sorahel back to their aravel, and dropped him carefully down onto his bedroll.

Sorahel pulled his knees up to his chest, and looked up at his father with some concern. “What’s going on? Where are you going?”

Zevaras sat down next to Sorahel, and shifted so that they could look at each other. “I know that you have heard about the problems between the mages and templars that have been going on for the past couple of years, right?” Sorahel had heard some of the scouts talking about the war, but since the only mages in their clan were the keeper and the first, everyone said that the war shouldn’t affect them too much. “Well there is a meeting being called, for both sides to representatives. Everyone is going to do a lot of talking, and hopefully some kind of compromise can be found between them. But either way, the keeper wants me to go, in secret, to see what direction things will be headed in. I know it probably seems like we are very isolated from the problems that are going on, but truthfully, the outcome of this meeting could have a very serious impact on our clan. I hopefully won’t be gone too long, probably about a month or so, but I’ll need you to be strong while I’m gone, okay? Just don’t do anything foolish.”

Sorahel clenched his jaw to try to hold back tears. Grown-ups didn’t cry about things like their father leaving them for an entire month to do something as dangerous as spying on stupid shems fighting in a stupid war over stupid things. “Do you have to go?” He knew that he sounded pathetic and childish, but he couldn’t help asking anyways. “Isn’t there anyone else who could go? What about Mondi?”

Zevaras started shaking his head before Sorahel even finished talking, which was never a good sign. “There has not been enough magic blood in Clan Lavellan in a very long time, da’len. Deshanna and Mondi both need to stay here and lead the clan, especially in such uncertain times as these.”

“But the clan needs you too!” Sorahel couldn’t help protesting. “You’re the best hunter we’ve got, without a doubt!”

Zevaras gave Sorahel a small smile. “Thank you, da’len. But I must go. Please understand that I am doing this for you, and for your future.” He leaned forward to pull Sorahel into a hug, and Sorahel only resisted for a moment before accepting the comfort. He felt his father kiss the top of his head, and Sorahel’s arms tightened around the man. He wanted to beg for his father to just stay here, and for things to go on as they always had. He’d even promise to be good for the rest of his life, but he wasn’t stupid enough to miss the resolve in Zevaras’ voice, and knew that there was nothing he could do to change his mind. So he just accepted the hug, and squeezed his eyes shut to try and stop his tears from falling out. 

,,,

Sorahel closed his eyes and breathed deeply, and waited for his father to be convinced that he was asleep. He heard the soft rustling of clothes as Zevaras packed himself a bag, and then a light kiss was pressed to Sorahel’s forehead before he heard the tent flap move and his father leave.

Sorahel counted to one hundred, then he got up and quietly left the tent, following after his father. He waited at the edge of camp, since he remembered Zevaras telling Deshanna that he would say goodbye to her, and then a few minutes later, he saw Zevaras leaving. 

He waved to the scouts as he left, and Sorahel held his breath and moved as quietly as he could through the brush, not wanting to walk on the main path where the scouts would easily spot him. 

When several minutes passed by and he wasn’t stopped by the sound of anyone shouting his name, Sorahel let himself properly breathe again, though he continued to walk off the path. 

Even though he got tired pretty quickly, Sorahel decided that he was going to keep going forward off of stubbornness alone if he had to. He was glad that he hadn’t thought to bring a pack, because he was sure that the weight of even a single shirt would be enough to slow him down.

Several hours passed, and Sorahel felt like he was half dead. He was barely able to keep his eyes open, and he had to drag his feet along the ground. But he knew that he had to keep going, if not for the sake of his stubbornness, then at least because they were already far enough away from camp, in a direction they didn’t normally go in, that Sorahel had no confidence in his ability to find his way back to the clan if he got lost. 

Eventually the sun started to rise, and Sorahel felt a new appreciation for his father. From what he could see when he dared to peek through the foliage, Zevaras was still going strong, unbothered by an entire night of walking. When he saw his father slow to a stop next to a small river, and sit down, he had to hold in a loud noise of glee. Finally, he could take a break. 

In his excitement, Sorahel didn’t pay as much attention to the ground as he should have, and ended up tripping over a small rock. He was too tired to throw his arms out in time to catch his fall, and ended up face planting on the ground. There was a loud crunch, and then it felt like his nose was burning.

A moment later, he was being scooped up and carried over to the small campfire that his father had already set up. “I nearly stabbed you,” Zevaras scolded. “Though I don’t know why I’m so surprised that the person who’s been following me all night was you. What were you thinking?”

Sorahel was too tired to be bothered by the fact that his father had known he was there the whole time, even if he hadn’t known who it was that was there. “The keeper doesn’t let me go on hunts yet, and I’m too old to take lessons with the babies. There’s nothing I can do to help our clan from the camp. If this meeting that you’re going to is so important, then I want to help. I want to be able to do something to actually help.”

Zevaras sighed as he pulled a potion out of his pack and held it out to Sorahel. “Drink this.” Then he settled down on the ground next to his son, and flopped back to stare up at the sky. After downing the elfroot potion, Sorahel laid down next to his father. “Do you know why the keeper is so insistent on keeping you out of the hunting parties?”

Sorahel turned his head to the side so that he could look at his father better. “Why?”

“Have I ever told you about your mother?” Zevaras asked suddenly. Sorahel frowned slightly at the sudden question, but just shook his head. He remembered once when he’d been a little kid, someone had told him that his mother was dead, but that was the extent of what he knew of her. Zevaras sighed again. “Perhaps I should have told you this much sooner. You had the right to know. Your mother, her name was Eliagar Surana, and she was a circle mage. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. We met when I used to go with my father to sell meat and furs in the alienage that she lived in, and we became best friends. When we were just a little older than you are now, she was taken away to the Ferelden circle. There was a templar there who was sympathetic, and would often sneak me in to visit with your mother. Falling in love with her felt like the most natural thing in the world. We considered ourselves to be married, even though there was no one who would have ever officiated such a ceremony. When we found out that she was pregnant with you, we were so happy, but also so scared. Neither of us knew what would happen to a child born into a circle, but we knew that we didn’t want to find out. The day you were born, our templar friend helped us create a ruse that made it look as though you had perished, and then snuck you out to me. Eliagar and I knew that it would be too dangerous for me to continue sneaking into the tower, because suddenly I had someone relying on me. I never saw her again after that. But while you were still so very young, I heard the news just like everyone else. A young elf who died to save the world. They called her the Hero of Ferelden, but to me she was always just Eliagar. Anyways, I suppose the point of all this is just that if you turn out to have magic in your blood like your mother did, the keeper didn’t want it manifesting in the middle of a hunt.”

They were both silent for several long minutes after that as Sorahel tried to picture what his mother might have looked like. He’d heard the title of ‘the Hero of Ferelden’ before, but didn’t know much about her. He wanted to ask if alienage elves all shared a name the way the Dalish did, but figured that his father wasn’t in the mood to talk about Sorahel’s mother anymore. “Thank you for telling me,” he finally thought to say, though it came out as little more than a whisper.

Both of them reached out to hold hands, and Zevaras turned to show Sorahel the small smile on his face. “Get some rest now, alright?”

“Are you going to send me back to the camp?”

Zevaras rolled his eyes. “I don’t trust that you wouldn’t just turn right back around and keep following me. And I can’t bring you back myself because it would make me late to the summit. So I guess I have to bring you with me. But please don’t think of this as a reward for sneaking out, because I am seriously upset with you for doing that.”

Sorahel grinned. “I know, I know.” Then he closed his eyes and settled back, trusting that his father would know if there was any danger around them. Well, anymore than usual, at least.

,,,

They reached the temple in the middle of the afternoon three days after they'd set out, and Sorahel couldn’t help staring up at it with wide eyes. Even from their distance, the place was clearly huge. Sorahel had never seen any shem cities or buildings, and was used to camps made of aravels and tents. He felt completely dwarfed by the temple. The shems must truly believe a lot in their Maker for them to spend so much time creating such a massive monument to him.

Sorahel wanted to rush forward and investigate everything, including all of the people that were milling about, but his father seemed to read his mind, and quickly grabbed Sorahel’s arm. “We will rest here until nightfall, and make our way inside after dark. There aren’t going to be any negotiations going on today as everyone gets settled in, so we won’t miss much more than the introductions.” Sorahel sighed, but nodded. “Once we are in there, you cannot do anything that could cause trouble, understand? In the eyes of the shem, elves are practically invisible, so as long as we act like we belong, we will blend right in. We will not talk to anyone unless we absolutely have to, and we will find out of the way places to sleep at night. I need you to understand that this is not something we are doing for fun, da’len. We are doing this because we must.”

It seemed a little dumb that they couldn’t fully appreciate the sight of all the different people who were here, or the temple itself, but Sorahel was old enough to understand the importance of his father’s words, so he nodded again. “I understand, babae.” 

He forced himself to get rest even though he felt too excited to truly be tired. Eventually he was shaken awake by his father. “Are you ready?”

Sorahel nodded eagerly. He couldn’t wait to go back to the clan and tell them all about this. The other kids were going to be so jealous. And maybe- Sorahel glanced up at Zevaras before looking ahead again. Maybe when they go back, Sorahel could talk to the keeper. He could explain to her that he definitely didn’t feel magic at all, and then maybe she’d finally let him go out on hunts. Man, following his father here was definitely the best decision that Sorahel had ever made.

,,,

Everything happened so quickly. For two days, things were going great. Sorahel and his father listened in on the beginning of the talks, and Sorahel occasionally wandered off to explore the temple. Like Zevaras had told him, as long as he acted like the other elves, nobody gave him a second glance. 

But then, as he and his father headed back to their hiding hole for the night after the second day of the summit, someone called out, “Zevaras?” 

Sorahel’s father leaned over to whisper to Sorahel. “Go. Leave here as fast as you can. I will meet you outside at the tree line if all is well. If you do not see my by morning, then I need you to promise that you will go back to the clan. Can you do that for me?”

“What’s going on, babae?”

Zevaras narrowed his eyes. “Promise me, Sorahel.”

He didn’t want to think about having to leave his father behind, but he nodded. “I promise.” He wanted to stay and see what was going on, and who had called out to his father, but he’d just made a promise, so he quickly walked away, ears straining to hear anything behind him. 

“Zevaras, is that you?” the other person asked again.

His father answered in a strained voice. “Mikhail. Fancy running into you after all this time…” and then Sorahel turned a corner and he was too far away to pick out the specific conversation amongst the many other voices in the corridors.

Sorahel tried to head for the temple’s exit, but he quickly got turned around and lost. The place was far too big for its own good. Just as he was contemplating getting to the ground floor and finding a window to crawl out of, he heard a desperate shout of, “Someone help me!”

Sorahel could still obey his promise to his father if he took a brief detour, right? How could he ever claim to be old enough to be a protector of his clan if he ran at the sound of trouble? So Sorahel rushed forward as the same pained voice called out again.

He almost tripped because of how fast he was going when he rounded the corner and burst into a large room. There was the woman he recognized as the Divine, who was apparently important to the religious shems, and her face was twisted in pain. There was also a creature that was surely a demon, and Sorahel had to force himself not to just run away.

He clenched his hands into fists, and stomped forward as noisily as possible, trying to draw the demon’s attention away from the old lady. “What’s going on here?”

,,,

There was a searing pain in Sorahel’s hand, like someone was trying to slice it open and set it on fire at the same time. He tried to pull his hand free of the torture it was going through, but his entire body felt like it was weighed down with a hundred times his own weight. 

Even though his eyelids felt just as heavy as the rest of them, Sorahel forced his eyes open. All he could see in every direction was green. And not a pretty color, like the necklace that Mondi had been gifted by her wife, but an ugly green. One that looked like poison and death. 

Sorahel heard rustling around him, and he managed to stumble to his feet and look around. He had no idea where he was, and he couldn’t help being afraid. Maybe he was not old enough for any of this, and the keeper had been right to try and protect him, because Sorahel couldn’t recall ever feeling so frightened in his life.

Then he saw giant spiders, and he ran, because what else was he supposed to do? They were everywhere, and they were going to swarm over him and devour him, and his hand still felt like it was on fire, and Sorahel had to clench his teeth together to stop himself from screaming.

He saw a faint light on top of a mountain, and it was a safe white instead of the pestilent green light that was everywhere else, including in his hand. With no other options that he could think of, Sorahel grabbed a section of stone that was jutting out, and began pulling himself up. The spiders followed, and Sorahel was certain that they were about to get him, when suddenly a hand was reaching down in front of him. Sorahel had no idea who the hand belonged to, or where they would pull him to, but he knew that anything had to be better than getting eaten alive by giant spiders, so he reached up to grab the hand and let himself be pulled to safety. He could only hope that he made the right choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not going to repeat the events from the game in detail because we've all played the game a million times and know what happens. I'm only going to write about the parts that are changed or affected by my Lavellan.


	2. Don't Treat Me Like a Child

If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, Cullen probably wouldn’t have believed that it was possible for a person to just fall out of the fade like that. In fact, even having witnessed it, he still wasn’t sure that he believed it. Not necessarily because it seemed too impossible to be true, but more because the idea of the only survivor of the Conclave being a child seemed unbearably sad. 

And yet, the facts remained what they were, and Cullen was left to wonder whether the Maker would truly be cruel enough to allow something like this to happen. He looked at the unconscious child, and then at the apostate who was kneeling next to him. “How is he?”

The frown on the apostate’s face didn’t seem particularly comforting. “Whatever magic created this mark, it is a very powerful force. I am not sure if any mortal would be able to survive such a thing. Especially one that has not even finished growing yet. I will do what I can for him, but I make no promises.”

Cullen could already see the scowl on Cassandra’s face, and just knew that she was itching to demand results, but he knew that that wouldn’t accomplish anything, so he just nodded at the apostate and then motioned for Cassandra to follow him out of the room. “That hole in the sky… whatever caused it, we must find a way to fix it. I’m already receiving reports of demons being spat down, from smaller holes. We cannot go on like this.”

There was a dark look on Cassandra’s face, and even though he hardly knew her, he just knew that she was going to do everything in her power to bring an end to the problem, and hopefully to the war as well. “It has something to do with that child. It is no coincidence that the mark on his hand looks the same as the holes in the sky.”

Cullen nodded in agreement. Whatever else was going on, that child was somehow involved. He was the sole survivor of the Conclave, which had to mean something. Cullen had lived too long for him to still believe in coincidences. But despite the clear connection between the child and the disaster going on around them, Cullen didn’t think that the boy was actually responsible. How could a child be responsible for such destruction?

Before he could mention that, though, since he was pretty sure that Cassandra blamed the boy, one of the other former templars ran down the hall. “Commander! More demons have breached the veil! We need immediate backup!” Cullen and Cassandra both tightly grabbed the hilts of their swords as they followed the soldier to the danger. Whatever else was going on, Cullen knew that they needed to figure out how to keep all of the demons at bay if they wanted to have any chance of surviving.

,,,

Time seemed to pass by in something of a blur as the breach in the sky grew bigger and more demons dropped down. It might have been days, or even weeks, since the Conclave, but Cullen was too busy the entire time to even take a breath, let alone keep track of the time.

He directed his limited amount of men to fight the demons with as much strength as they could, and he hoped for the best. It had been a long time since he’d prayed to the Maker, but if there was ever a time to begin again, it was probably now.

He was in the middle of fighting off some particularly tough demons, when a bolt of lightning flew past his head. He could feel the presence of magic in two people nearby, though only one person was slinging around spells. Since the spells were aimed at the demons and not at him, Cullen didn’t care. 

Then the demons were gone, and Cullen turned to look at the group that had just provided backup. Cassandra, Solas the apostate, Varric the dwarf, and standing a bit further back, the boy from the Conclave. So he had woken up after all. Cullen wanted to believe that that meant there was hope for all of them yet.

“This is Sorahel,” Solas introduced. “We are taking him to the rift to see if he can seal it. The mark on his hand was already able to successfully close one of the smaller ones.”

Cullen didn’t want to feel such relief, because he knew that it would only hurt worse when everything crashed down around them, but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling grateful. The boy- Sorahel- was awake, and apparently capable of putting a stop to this madness. 

Cullen and his men joined Cassandra’s group, and they all continued towards the temple together. He noticed that Sorahel stayed back during combat, usually finding something to duck behind until the fighting was over. That was probably for the best, since he doubted that such a young looking child had much in the way of combat training.

They eventually reached the temple, and Cassandra looked down at the little elf. “Do you think that you can do this?”

Sorahel looked down at the green light on his palm, and then clenched his fist before looking up at everyone. “I’m not even old enough to have my vallaslin yet. How can I be old enough to do this?”

Solas put a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “Those markings that your people are so proud of are not what makes you an adult. They are only visible evidence that you have already proven yourself, right? So prove yourself now, da’len. Close the rift and save everyone here. I know that you can do it. You already have, with that smaller one, remember?”

If there were any other solution on hand, Cullen would have suggested it in a heartbeat. Of course he knew that in a time of desperation and war they could not afford to shelter children for very long, but even so, the look of fear on Sorahel’s face was enough to make Cullen wish that he could. 

Then the boy put on a brave face, and Cullen mentally applauded him for it. “I can do this,” he whispered, mostly to himself. “It’s my job to be a protector, so I have to do this.” With that, he grabbed the crumbling railing in front of him and leapt over it before anyone could stop him, and they watched as he fell down and landed with a hard thud on the ground below. 

Everyone else rushed down the normal way, hoping to reach Sorahel before he could get seriously hurt by any demons, but the boy was already marching forward towards the rift, holding his hand out towards it. “Just focus!” Solas shouted. “You can do this!” 

The rift was pulled open, and a rather imposing looking demon fell out of it. Cullen barked out commands and everyone fell into position to fight the thing while Sorahel focused on trying to close the rift. Once the demon had been dealt with, as well as several smaller ones that had come out with it, Cullen looked over at Sorahel, who had a look of intense concentration on his face. 

The little elf let out a loud shout of pain, and then the rift vanished from the sky as though it had never been there, leaving only the breach itself gaping over all of Thedas. Sorahel’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground, though Cassandra was quick to rush forward and catch him. 

They sent word ahead to let everyone know that they’d found a way to successfully close the rifts, and then they carried the unconscious boy back to Haven. Word must have traveled very quickly, because as they walked through the front gates, everyone stared at the elf, many of them bowing their heads, some even dropping to their knees and clasping their hands together in a sign of prayer. 

Cullen had planned on bringing Sorahel back to the healer’s cabin, where he’d been resting since he’d fallen from the fade, but now he wasn’t sure. It would mean having to go past practically everyone in Haven, and he was sure that Sorahel didn’t need that kind of attention at the moment.

After giving it some consideration, Cullen turned around and brought the boy back outside of the gates, and over to his own tent. It would have to do for now. He ignored the people who shouted after him, and decided that he would just watch over the boy until Solas or Adan showed up. Clearly word moved around Haven quickly enough that Cullen had no need to send for anyone. 

And he was proven right when Solas showed up within less than an hour. He sat down next to the bedroll that Sorahel had been laid out on, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he looked up and gave Cullen a firm nod. “I am confident that he will be alright. He just exhausted himself, and it may be some time before he wakes up. Be sure to get plenty of water down his throat while he rests and recovers. I will check in on him everyday.” Then he left without another word, and Cullen let him go. Sure, Solas was technically an apostate, but at this point, weren’t all mages apostates? And Solas had been very helpful in their trials so far.

Cullen decided that it would be okay to go back to training with his men and women, because his tent was nearby so he would hear it if anything were to go wrong. It also helped that he could detect the magic in Sorahel, even if the boy hadn’t used any spells on their way to the rift, so he would know if the boy got up and moved around. 

It was a few hours after that when Cassandra showed up. She peered into Cullen’s tent, and then made her way over to Cullen. “Apparently some of the people in Haven were quite intrigued as to why you brought him into your personal tent.”

Cullen knew that there had to be a blatant look of disgust on his face. “What could they possibly find intriguing about that?”

Cassandra gave him a long look, but chose not to answer. “Once he woke up, will you make sure that he heads to the Chantry? I’m sure that we would all like to have the chance to speak with him.” She hesitated for a moment, and then lowered her voice so that the nearby soldiers wouldn’t be able to overhear her. “Someone declared him to be the Herald of Andraste herself, and the title has spread too quickly for it to be contained.”

Cullen would have thought that by this point in his life, he would no longer be capable of being surprised. Apparently he was wrong, though. “They actually think that a Dalish mage was sent by Andraste?”

For some reason, Cassandra looked relieved by his question. “So you could feel it too, then? I thought that I could detect magic in him, but he did not perform a single spell or do anything to try and defend himself, so I thought that perhaps I was mistaken in the heat of the moment.”

“No, he’s definitely got magic. Probably just hasn’t properly woken up in him yet.” He tilted his head as he sheathed his sword in order to focus more on Cassandra. “Do we know anything about him besides his name yet?”

Cassandra laughed. “We’ve known his name for less than a day, Commander. Of course Leliana is already in the process of putting together an entire dosier. Though I’m sure that there’s not much to be said. He’s still just a child.” They both sobered at the thought of a young boy having so much responsibility thrust onto him. It wasn’t fair, of course, but they did not live in a world where fairness was the norm.

With that awkward conversation-ender, Cassandra took her leave, and Cullen went back to training. There was still a massive breach in the sky, and if the smaller rift had been enough to knock Sorahel unconscious, then he was sure that the breach itself would require more than just the boy’s strength. It was best to be prepared, because Cullen had the feeling that things were going to get very difficult, very quickly.


	3. The Herald of Andraste

Leliana looked down at the folder that had been placed in front of her a few hours earlier. It was everything that her spies had been able to find out about Sorahel Lavellan, the newly dubbed ‘Herald of Andraste’. It seemed like too large of a title for such a small boy, and even though it was Leliana’s job to doubt everything that she saw, she couldn’t help feeling as though there was nothing insidious about him. 

He had just woken up, as Leliana had figured out when she’d glanced out of her tent and saw the paths of Haven lined with everyone who lived there, all of them whispering amongst themselves with such excitement. She watched as Sorahel finally made his way up past her tent, and looked at the Chantry. He took a deep breath to collect himself, and then went inside.

Leliana looked back at the folder. Sorahel was twelve years old, son of Zevaras Lavellan, who was presumably among the dead at the temple. Nobody knew who Sorahel’s mother was, only that she was not from the Lavellan clan and had died many years ago, at least according to Zevaras. And that was about the extent of the information Leliana had been able to obtain. It wasn’t about her lack of skill, so much as it was about Sorahel just being so young. He hadn’t had any time to do anything of note yet, besides the part where he fell out of the fade and also closed a rift using the green magic on his hand. 

Curious to know more about him, she made her way into the temple as well, and to meeting room. When she stepped inside, she saw Cassandra, Cullen, and Josephine all gathered around the war table, but not Sorahel. Cassandra sighed when she saw Leliana. “We know that he came into the Chantry, but I suppose he managed to wander off already.”

“He is just a little boy,” Josephine pointed out, as if any of them had been able to just suddenly forget about that crucial fact. “And he is Dalish, no? I’m sure that he is just curious to see what a Chantry looks like, since he’s most likely never been in one before.” 

The four of them chatted for several minutes before the heavy doors creaked open, and Sorahel slipped into the room. “Sorry if I interrupted a meeting or something? Someone said that I was supposed to come in here, I think, but I don’t really know my way around, so they might have meant somewhere else-”

“You’re in the right place,” Josephine assured him. “Ah, I’m Josephine Montilyet. The redhead is Leliana, and you’ve already met Cullen and Cassandra.”

Sorahel stared at them all, and Leliana was surprised to find that she felt the need to fidget with something. As though a child’s stare meant anything when she had faced many trials that were much worse. Still, his next words were particularly painful, though Leliana knew that he didn’t intend for them to be. “Is it really true that everyone in the temple died?”

The four adults exchanged looks, unsure of what to say. Of course they couldn’t just lie to him, but there had to be a nicer way to break the news, than to just confirm it, right? “You were there with your father, right?”

Sorahel frowned, and nodded. “Yeah. I wasn’t supposed to be there though. I was just- I should have just- have you seen him? Maybe he was able to get away in time? He’s tall for an elf, and he has black hair like me, and green eyes, and he’s got the mark of Andruil. Please, have you seen him?”

Cullen moved around the table, and crouched down in front of Sorahel so that they were more equal. “I’m very sorry, but as far as we can tell, there were no survivors, other than you.”

There was a war going on, and people died everyday. But that didn’t make it any easier for a child to understand why he had to be the one to lose someone, and it didn’t make it easy for any of the adults in the room to see the tears sliding silently down Sorahel’s cheeks. “I shouldn’t have even been there,” he repeated. 

“But you were there, and now you are the one who bears the mark that can save us,” Cassandra said in a slightly less gruff tone than usual. “The people out there all think that you were sent by Andraste to save us in our time of need.”

Sorahel shook his head. “Why would someone I don’t believe in send me? Why would anyone send me at all? I’m just… me. I’m not even allowed to join the hunting groups yet. This all seems like a big mistake. Whatever’s going on shouldn’t have me involved. I’ll just make things worse, I’m sure.”

“You’re all we’ve got,” Leliana reminded him. “We can’t force you to stay, but if you leave now then the whole world is pretty much screwed.” She could tell Cullen wanted to say something to her about her attitude, but she knew he’d save it until later. For now, Leliana was more focused on getting the willing help of the only person who could truly end things, at least as far as any of them knew. And as much as Leliana felt for the kid, in the end this was a matter of the fate of the world, which meant that it was more important than letting a kid preserve his childhood. 

Sorahel gave Leliana a long look, and if she were a younger, more foolish woman, she might even think that he was somehow looking right through her and into her soul. “It’s not like I can go home anyways. Not when I’m to blame for not being able to protect my father. And I do want to help, however I can. I’m just… I’ll help, I promise.”

“Excellent. Now, there’s a woman in the Hinterlands who wants to meet with you…”

,,,

Leliana looked over various reports, when she heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. She turned and saw an older woman in Chantry robes, most likely Mother Giselle. Leliana had received word that the mother would be sent ahead while the Inquisition group continued to scout out the Hinterlands, and close the many rifts that had been spotted in the area. 

Leliana gave the mother a pleasant little smile. “I’m glad that you made it here safely.”

“Yes. It was an easier journey than expected, though I suspect that that is only thanks to the hard work of your Inquisition. I met your Herald. He is rather younger than I had expected. But he is a clever boy, when he allows himself to be. Despite his age, I believe that he will be able to help bring this Inquisition to victory.”

Leliana nodded. “I’m glad that you think so. He needs all the support he can get, especially because of his age.” They were both silent for a moment, and then Leliana extended one hand. “Welcome to Haven. I hope that you will enjoy your time here.” Then she watched with sharp eyes as the mother headed into the Chantry, and found that she rather liked the woman.

,,,

One of Leliana’s ravens showed up to bring her a message after Cassandra’s team had been gone for almost a month. The message was brief and to the point- ‘_Herald injured, has magic. Will be back soon_’, and Leliana gave it a cursory look over before sticking the note into her pocket. It was definitely time to get the boy trained, at least enough to defend himself. How could the Inquisition look strong, after all, if their Herald was always getting himself hurt?


	4. Teacher and Student

Solas found that he was surprisingly excited by the prospect of training Sorahel in the magical arts. Once upon a time, Solas had been a teacher to many, and had always enjoyed imparting wisdom onto those who asked for it, but he had not had the chance to do so in a while. 

Well, Sorahel had not technically asked to be taught, but he wasn’t reluctant to learn, so at least there was that. Though Solas knew that even if the young elf had been reluctant, it would not have made any difference, because the leaders of the Inquisition would have forced the issue. They could not allow an untrained mage to run around with them in such dangerous situations, where there was far too much risk of something explosive happening. 

To begin with, Solas thought that it would be safest to hold their lessons in the fade, where he would be able to protect his student from the demons, and no one would be around to be physically injured by any spells gone awry. They had spent the past three nights doing nothing but meditating together, to build up Sorahel’s concentration and focus. 

So far, Sorahel had been a prize pupil, doing everything that was asked of him, and persevering even when he did not succeed on his first try. But tonight, there was obviously something on Sorahel’s mind that made it difficult for him to clear his thoughts enough to meditate. “What is troubling you, da’len?”

Sorahel sighed. “Nothing, hahren.”

Solas snorted. “I am plenty old enough to know when I am being lied to. Would you like to try that again?”

The boy opened his eyes to stare at Solas. “I’m thinking about my babae. He was the best hunter in our clan, and he was very wise. Even the keeper looked to him for advice sometimes, and I’ve always been so proud of him for that. But if he is- was- so wise, why did he not know what would happen to the Conclave?”

Solas knew that it was unlikely that they would get anything productive done tonight, and decided that focusing on the boy’s emotional health was also important to his growth as a mage. “Even the wisest man in the world cannot foresee the future. He had no reason to believe that things would go wrong, though I’m sure that if he had even the smallest inkling of such a thing, he would not have stayed. He would not have wanted to endanger you, I’m sure.”

Sorahel wrapped his arms around himself, and he looked his age in that moment. For the most part he acted so mature, especially when they were out in the Hinterlands closing rifts and solving the problems of every peasant that crossed their path, so when one didn’t look at Sorahel’s stature, it was easy to forget that he was still so young. “I just don’t understand why he would leave me,” he said in a small voice. “I have a few friends in the clan, but the only one who really cared about me was my father. The whole clan is family, but I don’t have any other blood in the group, and everyone else is already so busy with their own lives, they don’t have the time for me. It was supposed to be me and my father up against the world until he died of old age or something. He wasn’t supposed to go when I still need him.”

Solas felt a pang of guilt in his heart. If only he hadn’t been foolish enough to hand his orb over to the wrong person- but he couldn’t think of that now, not while he was sharing a dream with Sorahel. “Oh da’len, I may not have ever known your father, but I don’t think that he would have ever left you behind if he’d had any choice in the matter.”

They were both quiet for a minute before Sorahel spoke again. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Solas doubted that there were many important secrets left in the world that he wasn’t privy to. Then again, most secrets seemed to be of utmost importance to the children who held them. “Of course.” 

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

Solas nodded. “I promise.” Then he repeated the words in elvhen as well, as if that would somehow give them more weight. 

Sorahel gave him a long look, as if he had any ability to see through any lie Solas might have seen fit to tell. “I didn’t know I had magic before, but my dad and the keeper thought I might be because my mother was a mage too. She lived in a circle, and apparently she was a hero.”

Solas gave his student a curious look. “Oh?”

Sorahel nodded. “Yeah. I just learned about her for the first time when we were on our way to the Conclave, but my father said that my mother died saving the world. That really scares me. It’s a lot to live up to, isn’t it? If I don’t die to save the world, does that mean that she’s not going to be proud of me? Not that I should even care about her pride when I never knew her, and never even knew about her, but now that I know, I can’t stop trying to picture her in my mind, to figure out who she was. And now with this,” he waved his hand to point out the mark on his hand, “I can’t help wondering what the odds are that being a savior would run in my blood, or something like that.”

“I’m not sure is heroism is a trait that can be passed from mother to child, but it is an interesting thing to ponder. However, I do not believe you need to worry about dying to save the world.” Of course, if things went as Solas hoped wouldn’t that mean that Sorahel would most likely be one of the many casualties of him trying to fix an old mistake? But no, that wasn’t something he could think about at the moment. “You have a lot of people behind you who will all do their best to keep you safe.”

For some reason, that made Sorahel look sad, and Solas mentally reviewed what he’d said to try and figure out what was wrong. He waited patiently until the boy finally spoke. “They only protect me because of this.” He held up his hand with the mark on it. “Without this, I’d just be some random elf kid who probably couldn’t even get a single person to escort me back to my clan. But because of dumb luck and a flashy lightshow on my hand, everyone acts like I’m so important.”

Solas gave Sorahel a sympathetic look. “I understand how it feels to be thrust into a position that you did not choose. It can be difficult to believe that anyone around you is being genuine. Maybe you would have been nobody to the Inquisition if it weren’t for the mark, but it only got you in through the door. Once you were in, there’s nothing that forced people to care about you. You inspired that in them by being yourself. We all protect you because we care about you, da’len. You, Sorahel, not the Herald.”

Sorahel gave Solas a long, hopeful look. “You promise?”

Solas nodded once. “I promise.” It was one of the few promises Solas could even make without feeling guilt tear through him.

,,,

Once Sorahel had mastered all of the basics of using magic, Solas had switched to having their lessons in the physical world. He could tell that it made the former templars bristley, so he started bringing Sorahel over beyond the frozen lake for them to practice.

Solas also knew that there were other times when Sorahel practiced sword fighting under the tutelage of Cassandra or Cullen. It was entirely logical given how new the boy was to his magic still, but that didn’t stop the idea of a mage needing a blade from rankling at him. 

Eventually, between his magic and his swordplay, it was decided that Sorahel was ready to join in fights when he was traveling with the others. It was perfect timing, since Cassandra had recently mentioned a need to return to the Hinterlands to close the last few rifts there before they would take Sorahel to Val Royeaux. 

When they were attacked by a group of templars, Sorahel killed one on his own before he got blasted back by the smite of another. The battle was quickly wrapped up, and then Solas hurried over to Sorahel to make sure that the boy was alright. 

He funneled a little bit of healing magic into the small body to take care of the bruises that must have formed from being flung back, but Solas knew that Sorahel was most likely going to have trouble coping with the effects of a smite, especially when even having magic was still something that was so new to him.

Sorahel opened his eyes, and then immediately turned over to vomit up everything he had in him. He let out several loud, heaving gasps, and then turned to look at the rest of the group. “The effects of the smite should wear off within about an hour-” Cassandra started.

“I just killed someone,” Sorahel whispered, and even though his voice came out soft enough to be nearly inaudible, it shut Cassandra up immediately. What could any of them say to that? They all had blood on their hands. It was just a consequence of growing up in a world like theirs, and one that Sorahel would need to get used to. Though something about the haunted look in Sorahel’s eyes told Solas that it might take a very long time for Sorahel to get used to taking lives. He wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not.


End file.
